


Fatal

by gavrochesinfinity



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:28:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gavrochesinfinity/pseuds/gavrochesinfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The days leading up to the revolution from hearts and minds of the Les Amis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It hadn't taken much to love her. And, it took even less to lose her. It had all happened so fast. It was honestly a blur. One minute they're smuggling the young gamin into a coat closet, and the next, ‘Ponine’s lying there in his arms. Unmoving … Lifeless … Dead.

And, although, devastation was eating him whole, he knew he must go on. He knew that, if he hadn’t, her death would’ve been in vain. Her blood strewn on the cobblestone streets for, merely, the entertainment of the Guard. And, that was not going to happen, not while he had say in it. He laid her there in search of whoever may have survived the last attack. Although he hoped for the ABC to all still be living and breathing in the moment, something in his gut told him otherwise. It was too silent. Even Gavroche hadn’t sounded since ‘Ponine’s fatal shot rang out. It was an eerie silence, and it cut deep into his bones.


	2. Gavroche

He barreled into the _Café Mussain_ without hesitation. He knew that the news he brought was to be welcomed with despair and determination. It would finally be time. Upon entering, he realized that he had interrupted yet another of Enjolras’ lectures. But, it didn’t faze him. He went on unapologetically, yelling for the men to cease their meaningless jabbering and listen to him. No one heard but Feuilly. Or, more, no one listened but Feuilly. No one ever did. They treated Gavroche as if her were some child. And, although he was but only 10, he could take any of these men any day. It simply was not fair the lack of respect he was always welcomed with. 

Feuilly stood tall among the men. “Listen, everybody!”

He was never serious. Feuilly had this way about him that was calm. But, he sensed the distress in me, and the men sensed the distress within him. He looked at me expectantly, and the rest of the society followed his gaze.

“General Lamarque is dead.” I still hadn’t fully caught my breath, I had been running a far way to get here. All the way from Lamarque’s home.  
My proclamation was met with a stunned silence from all but Enjolras. He was calm, as always. But, I could see something change in his eyes. It was like watching an unlit match flicker brightly to life. 

“His death is the hour of fate. The people’s man. His death is the sign we await.” He steps onto the top of a table, letting the authority wash over all in the room. It was impossible not to listen to him when he was like this. Gavroche only wished that one day that’d be him. “On his funeral day they will honor his name with a light of rebellion, a blaze in their eyes. From their candles of grief we will kindle our flame. On the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricade rise. The time is here. Let us take to the streets with no doubt in our hearts, but a jubilant shout! They _will_ come when we call.”

Whatever had been the topic of discussion previously was long forgotten. Plans were to be reread, although by now _even_ Gavroche had them all memorized. The students would never let him join them, so he knew what he must do. There must have been a glint of it in his face, for just before he could slip out of the room, Feuilly caught him by the arm. He looked as if he were to cry. It pained Gavroche to see him looking this way. But, he refused to hear any of what Feuilly were to say, he had heard it repeatedly in the past year.

“Gavroche, please”, he began.

And, with that, Gavroche was gone. He knew that Feuilly wouldn’t even attempt to catch him now. For Gavroche was faster than any man, or boy for that matter. And, with a tear caught in the corner of his eye, he ran as fast as he could manage. From the wind that slapped his face, the sole water fell into a perfect circle on the pavement. Gavroche knew what he must do. This was his fight, too.


	3. Feuilly

He knew that no matter what he’d say, it’d be no use. He knew the stubbornness first hand; Gavroche was exactly like Feuilly had been. But, he knew not to give up. _If there was anything left in this world, it’s hope,_ he thought to himself. But, he scoffed at the thought. If there _were_ hope, then there’d be no revolution. They were fighting for the change that wouldn’t happen on its own, because no one dared change that. 

“Feuilly. Are you with us, or not?”

He looked up, and the room had silenced, every man’s eyes were fixated on him. The face’s of strangers held worried eyes, and on those of the _Les Amis de l’ABC_ stared in bewilderment, confusion playing on their features. He realized that somewhere along the the line he had sat on the floor, his back leaning against the wall. His knees were pulled to his chest as if he were holding himself together … 

And, maybe he was.

“Of course my brothers. Do you even have to ask?” He says, hiding his jespair with a joking tone. He hoped no one would notice. Feuilly would have worry about Gavroche later. For now, he had a revolution to prepare himself for. His death day was but hours away. He rose to his feet and excused himself. Enjolras would be unhappy with him when he returned, but he needed the air. He would never be able to think clearly in the mess that was the _Café Mussain_. Everyone’s minds were bustling, their eyes aflame. He could hear them yelling as he walked down the stairs of the building, _Vive la France!_

As Feuilly opened the outside exit, a warm breeze caressed his face. The sky was clear, save for a few speckles of brilliant light. It was beautiful. Feuilly shuddered with the realization that it would be the last of his life, possibly. And then, there was a scream.


End file.
